I’m craving the fresh flavors of summer. Even more so this year. Summer means that we will be settled in a new state. In a new apartment. With new opportunities. It means that 63 balls will no longer be necessary to juggle at once. It means that we will have said goodbye to the life we are now clinging on to. It means that we will be a little older and, if we’re lucky, a little wiser. It means that we will have survived.
Maybe it’s premature to crave the flavors of summer. But sometimes you need to be reminded. That it’s coming. That it’s not an oasis.
So I made bruschetta. And it’s covered in the fresh flavors of summer. It’s so real I can almost taste it.